


Paradise

by Mikiri



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Orchestra, Awkward Flirting, Awkwardness, Bartender Keith (Voltron), Bisexual Shiro (Voltron), Busker Keith, But in the funny way, Conductor Shiro, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Matt Holt is a Troll, Mutual Pining, Pining, Sheith Reverse Bang 2018, Unreliable Narrator, being shiro is suffering, i think so anyways, not actual suffering, so much music, surprising lack of actual suffering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 15:48:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15392127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikiri/pseuds/Mikiri
Summary: Music is a force that brings people together, that tells stories full of emotion, and it can do wonderful things. For Keith, it is a way to express himself, but also to make money for rent. For Shiro, it's his life long dream, music is everything he is, and that is why he's a conductor.They fall into orbit around each other, like binary stars, never talking. Until one day, Shiro screws up the courage to finally talk to his favorite busker.Matt? He's just there to point and laugh.





	Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my work for the Sheith Reverse bang with my glorious partner Acier (@firenashes on tumblr). To read a different fic using the same art, go read the fic by hibiscus_tea (@vers-shiro on tumblr). It was a lot of fun working with them both! I have a playlist with all the music in the fic found here: [Orchestra Fic Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLIyKtpjB0ICtPkC3zeQ-scflSUvA70QDC)

The first time Shiro saw the black haired violinist he had been heading to the subway and had gotten distracted searching for the source of the rather moving rendition of Coldplay’s Paradise. He watched as the over man’s fingers and bow danced over the strings, his entire body moving with the emotion he poured into the song.   
  


He wondered briefly if he could lure the violinist into playing in the orchestra he would hopefully conduct before he looked down at his watch and swore quietly. He fished a five out of his pocket and dumped it into the open violin case near the man’s feet and took off towards the subway, if he was lucky the train wouldn’t have pulled away by the time he got there.    


* * *

 

The next time Shiro saw the black haired violinist he was cutting through the park on his way to meet up with Matt and Sam about getting a full time conducting gig for the local college orchestra. The younger man was playing something that sounded sad, but airy, and honestly rather familiar. Shiro paused for a moment while he attempted to figure out where he knew the tune from. He glanced at his watch, and sighed, the name of the song just wasn’t coming to him and that didn’t seem to be changing any time soon. So Shiro pulled out his phone and recorded the younger man as he played the song, swaying with the breeze. At the end of the song, Shiro clapped, ended the recording, and tossed all the spare change he could find into the propped open violin case. He looked at the time again and groaned, he was going to be late.  


 

Later that evening he played the song to Matt who recognized it instantly, “That’s Castle on a Cloud from Les Mis. Shiro, you’ve played in the orchestra for that musical, how did you forget?”

 

Shiro hummed thoughtfully, “If that’s the production I think it was, I honestly blocked most of it out. The actors and crew were nice, but the director made the entire thing completely miserable. I forgot everything about it like a week later.” Shiro sighed and leaned back into his sofa, he had managed to forget that miserable summer musical until Matt had just reminded him.

 

Matt leaned to rest on Shiro’s shoulder, “That’s fair. We all have one of those in this business.”

 

Shiro let his head fall on top of Matt’s, the alcohol they had been drinking making everything feel fuzzy and warm, “A toast to shows better left forgotten.”

 

Matt raised his glass of wine, “I’ll drink to that.”

 

Shiro clinked his glass against Matt’s, and the pair spent the rest of the night trying to outdo each other with tales of the worst people they had ever worked with.  
  


* * *

Shiro had almost managed to forget about the black haired busker until he nearly tripped over the other man. The other man, he really needed to figure out this guy’s name, had seemingly paired up with a vaguely familiar pair of dancers and was playing that one pop song he kept hearing, except every time Shiro thought he new the next lyric it seemed to switch songs. The man was using a surprisingly fancy electric violin and effect pedal setup, if Shiro was more into being a soloist he would definitely investigate it more.

 

Shiro backed out of the violinist’s space and pulled out his phone and started recording, he wanted to see if he could figure out what the songs the busker was playing. At the end of the song, Shiro stopped recording and tossed a couple dollars into the violinist’s case with a smile. The busker winked back at him before reaching down to fiddle with the effect pedal for the next song.

 

Shiro had never felt his face gets so red so fast in his life. Sure he was aware that the busker was attractive, of course he was, but it had never really registered before. But a wink? Shiro was officially reading too much into this and he knew it. The busker seemed equally flustered and continued to fiddle with the effect pedal for just long enough for Shiro to make up his mind and bolt down the sidewalk in embarrassment.

 

He needed a drink, and to do the prep for his interview at the college for the orchestra professor job. Time to call Matt.

 

The hysterical laughter he got from Matt after showing him the video was unhelpful, but he did get the song titles out of him before Matt became completely useless. Apparently Sia wrote good dance songs, and the fact that Shiro had given the busker money for a song at least partially entitled “Cheap Thrills” was what had set Matt off in the first place. Shiro didn’t think he was familiar with the other song of the mash up, “The Greatest,” but he would look it up later. When he wasn’t trying to get drunk.  
  


* * *

Shiro tried to avoid the locations he had last seen the dark haired busker, still not quite over the awkwardness of  _ the wink _ . But try as he might, he was once again drawn in by the sound of a familiar song being played on the sidewalk outside an apartment building. Shiro always admired people who could do the quick fingerings required to play Phantom of the Opera’s “Angel of Music” especially since the busker seemed to be using his effects pedal to play back stored parts to get the proper exchange.

 

Shiro took in how the busker was focused so intently, obviously giving his full attention to the music. He could tell that the busker had a musicians soul, sure the money he earned could be a driving factor, but he gave himself over to the music so easily, so willingly. The song called and the busker answered. Shiro could always tell when people played the ones that were just playing the notes on the score and the people who truly felt passion,  _ emotion _ , with every note they played, and the black haired mystery busker definitely was part of the later group. 

 

Shiro continued watching entranced by the music until it was brought to an abrupt stop. An older man, balding with just a tiny fluff of white hair, in a dressing gown but bemusingly wearing a rather tattered blanket like a cape, came storming out of the building in a rage. The busker was obviously familiar with the man by abrupt stop and unhappy facial expression. Moving quickly, the busker unplugged the effects pedal, put the violin and bow in their case, and grabbed the effects pedal out of the way of the already ranting older man just before he stepped carelessly on it. What followed seemed to be a well worn argument.

 

“Stop playing that trashy music outside my apartment! Or I’ll call the police on you, you menace!” The man was yelling, catching far more attention than the busker had gotten while he had been playing. “Your playing burns my ears! Disrupts my entire day! Such horrific screeching, I will not stand it!”

 

The busker carefully placed the effects pedal and cord into a violently red backpack before replying, “Sorry Mr. de Graveriee, I’ll move in a minute Mr. de Graveriee.” The busker carefully secured his bow in his violin case before snapping it closed and hefting the backpack over his shoulder. The busker inched back in an attempt to get far enough away from the older man, but every inch that he gave the man took, his yelling escalating in volume.

 

Shiro watched the interaction worriedly, before stepping forward to try to help. But at the same moment, the busker had scuttled backwards, much further than before and accidentally rammed his face into Shiro’s knee. There was a terrifying moment when Shiro could feel himself overbalancing dangerously forward as his knee was shoved as far back as possible. He tried very hard not to fall, his left arm flailing wildly as he tried to regain his balance, not wanting his second real interaction with the busker to be squishing him. The yelling man grabbed Shiro by the collar and then Shiro’s head collided with  _ something _ and there was a telling, echoing silence. 

 

Shiro leaned back, using his had to free himself from the older man’s grip. He glanced down to see the busker carefully creeping away while the man was distracted, ignoring the red mark on his cheek from his impact into Shiro’s knee. Shiro met the busker’s gaze for a moment and made a shooing motion with his hand to encourage the busker’s hasty retreat. The busker nodded gratefully and continued his quiet, swift creep away from the scene. 

 

Certain now that the busker would be able to get away, Shiro returned his gaze to the old man who was apparently yelling at him about interfering with things that weren't about him and hitting the man in the head. Which, Shiro didn’t remember doing but the pain in his head indicated was possible. After a solid minute of yelling that Shiro refused to register the topic of the man finally let him go and stormed back into the building. 

 

Shiro sighed and glanced around as people carefully avoided where he was standing on the sidewalk. He pulled out his phone and stepped out of the main path as he looked at his messages. He groaned as he looked at the time and realized he was late to his meeting with Pidge and her test group about the new prosthetic they were working on and hurried off down the street.  
  


* * *

The next time Shiro saw the busker again was back at the train station several weeks later. He was with Matt on their way to the college when he suddenly heard a very familiar style of music. He didn’t recognize the song but he knew who was playing immediately, the busker had a very distinct style that Shiro thought he could recognize anywhere. Shiro grabbed Matt’s hand and went in search of the busker since they weren’t on a time limit.

 

The song ended to a mild smattering of applause, and Shiro could see the busker bow slightly before starting in on the next song. It started slow and Shiro didn’t quite recognize it until the song hit the chorus. Matt came up beside him and was singing along under his breath, while silently laughing at Shiro’s besotted expression.

 

Shiro wondered if it was possible to love someone simply for the art they created. Matt wondered if Shiro was ever going to realize that Matt knew the busker he had been mooning over for months now. 

 

As the song went on Matt grabbed Shiro and started pulling him along, still singing, “These are the thing, the things we lost to the fire, fire, fire...” Shiro hurriedly pulled out his wallet and dropped a five into the busker’s violin case as he was dragged off with a smile lingering on his lips.

 

* * *

It was only a few days before Shiro ran into the busker again, this time at the park with another man of similar age with a complicated looking series of effects pedals laid out before them. Shiro paused to watch curiously as the pair fiddled with the pedals, seemingly bantering under their breaths as they finished setting up. 

 

There was an air of anticipation, a couple of teenage girls were hovering a few feet away with their phones out ready to record. Shiro wondered if they had requested the song that obviously had so much preparation, and wondered what the song would be. The busker coughed and adjusted the violin’s position, tossing his head to keep his hair out of the way, finally seeming ready. 

 

The song started simply, the busker plucking at the strings in a way that Shiro thought was familiar but he wasn’t sure why. Seemingly reached the end of the loop, the busker pressed one of the pedals down and stepped back as his partner fiddled and pressed other pedals as the first section looped. The busker then started plucking again at some unspoken cue, starting the second level of the loop. The song felt more familiar to Shiro as it built loop by loop, reminding him of days relaxing with the Holt family playing- oh. Shiro recognized the song after the addition of the third loop, finally recognizing the song as the main menu music from Pidge’s Kingdom Hearts games. 

 

Finally on the fourth loop added, the song seemed complete and the busker stopped playing even while the song continued, the loops perfectly aligned. The two girls cheered from where they had been seemingly filming, and the busker and his partner waved at them, smiling at their accomplishment. Shiro watched as the partner nudged the violinist, a taunting smile visible as he jerked his head at Shiro. The busker rolled his eyes in a huff before reaching down to fade the song out so they could start again. 

 

Shiro lingered in the park watching the pair build song after song using nothing but loops and the effects pedal, until early evening. Shiro found watching the pair pack everything into their backpacks almost as entertaining as the music they had been making. There was an obvious camaraderie between them, the ribbing and the shoving lacking any real heat and they wound wires and placed the pedals gently into their packs. 

 

The pair gave final bows to their still watching audience before racing out of the park. Shiro sighed as he looked down at the time, he hadn’t done any of the shores he’d set out earlier to do, but he didn’t regret watching the entire set. Shiro picked himself off the bench he’d claimed earlier and meandered back home, humming under his breath.  
  


* * *

It was over a month before Shiro actually had time to actually find the busker and not just hear strains of his music drifting down the streets like the wind. Getting hired as an orchestra instructor had eaten into a lot of his free time and he hadn’t gotten a break from planning and auditions and requisitioning music, finally getting a free day like this was a needed relief. 

 

Shiro wandered into the park and ran into a crowd near the busker’s normal performance location. He edged forward until he could see what had attracted such attention, and suddenly the crowd wasn’t so surprising. It seemed like all of the performers he normally saw busking in the park had joined together to do a performance. Dancers had taken sides and were essentially acting out the war between the group of strings users and the other musicians who were steadily trying to outdo each other. 

 

He saw his busker (since when was the younger man  _ his _ busker, they hadn’t even talked) conspiring with the rest of the strings performers before starting a countdown and interrupting the other side. The song was bouncy and energetic, causing the dancers to do some amazing acrobatics and even pulling those like his busker with smaller instruments into their dance. This continued for a solid minute before the other side had decided on a comeback song and interrupted. The war between the sides continued for another few minutes, and Shiro could see the performers tiring, but they were able to keep the energy up and perform more and more daring tricks and intricate routines. 

 

He could see when the strings group finally decided to end it, they were going all out, playing an amazingly complicated layered song that Shiro didn’t quite believe was improvised but he supposed the group probably saw each other enough to make predictive assumptions of playing styles. The song built, not unlike his busker’s loops, and built then at the climax, his busker took off running forward and doing a front flip, still holding his violin, to land right in front of the other group of musicians and posed as if daring one of them to come up with a comeback to that. When there was silence, his busker twirled his bow in victory and half skipped back over to his group which was cheering with the crowd.

 

Shiro watched as each of the groups bowed to the crowd before trickling off to collapse on the grass in small groups and relax. The crowd followed suit and dispersed, several people walking over to their favorite performers (many even approaching his busker) and giving them tip money. Shiro decided it was probably acceptable enough to follow suit and gave his busker a twenty before he could chicken out. The busker smiled back, his almost purple tinted eyes crinkling at the edges as he smiled, and Shiro could feel his heart stutter in his chest. 

 

He hoped his face wasn’t too red as he gave the group hanging with his busker a jaunty salute with his left hand and hurried off. He looked over his shoulder to see the group his busker had been sitting with gently ribbing the black haired man who looked as flushed as Shiro felt. 

 

Shiro spent the rest of the day humming the last song idly, still picturing the flip the busker did with amazing clarity. When Sam asked him about it later at family-ish dinner, Shiro flushed pink and spent the rest of the night ignoring Matt who laughed at him.  
  


* * *

A cold wind was blowing and clouds loomed low overhead threatening to release their load at any moment the next time Shiro heard the the distinctive sound of his favorite busker playing a familiar song. The pokemon theme song was unmistakable and Shiro had many memories of watching the show with the Holts on weekends. Shiro waved as he passed by, but didn’t stop, he needed groceries and he’d prefer to be back in his apartment before it started raining even if he had brought an umbrella just in case.  

 

It had started raining while he had been in the store because of course it had, the weather was never ever on his side. He walked past the park again, but it was devoid of people, no one had apparently wanted to hang out in the rain. He hoped that his busker had been able to get home before the rain had started, but as he approached the bus stop at the edge of the park, he saw the distinctive red backpack which meant he had not. Shiro paused for a few seconds, hefted his bag of groceries and considered his options.

 

He could approach the busker and break the months long silence between them, he could walk past and pretend not to notice, he could backtrack and take a different route home, or he could give the busker his umbrella and run home. 

 

To Shiro the choice was obvious, it had been months and months since he had first seen the busker, it was well past time to actually talk to him. Well that, and the poor guy looked like a drowned cat and his hoodie was soaked through and even in the case he couldn’t imagine the water being good for the violin. So Shiro screwed up his determination and stepped forward, extending his umbrella out over the sitting busker.

 

The sudden cover seemed to startle the busker who turned to look up at him, so Shiro smiled ignoring the water soaking him and said, “Hello, I’m Shiro it’s nice to meet you, well talk to you finally.”

 

The busker fidgeted nervously with the drawstrings of his hoodie before replying, “I’m Keith, it’s nice to talk to you. I always see you after all my best performances.”

 

Shiro shrugged slightly, trying not to lose his groceries, “I’m a conductor, I have a great appreciation for great musicians. I knew from the first time I saw you play that you were a great musician, and you’ve only ever proven me correct.”

 

Keith blushed slightly, and fiddled with his wet bangs before replying, “Uh, thanks. I’m glad you think I’m a good musician.”

 

Shiro smiled brightly, like the sun peeking out between the clouds, and replied, “Of course, you’re my favorite of the buskers, your interpretation and love of the music makes your performances just, sublime.”

 

Keith turned even redder and seemed to try to say something but never actually got a word out. Taking pity on him Shiro suggested, “Hey, do you want to get out of the rain and get some coffee? I’m free right now.”

 

That seemed to kick Keith’s brain into working again and he said, “Oh, no I can’t I’m sorry.”

 

Shiro’s smiled dimmed slightly, but was still there, “Oh that’s fine. I’m sorry it must be a little creepy for a guy just off the street to ask you to coffee and-”

 

“No, no! That’s not it at all.” Keith broke into Shiro’s rambling before it could get anymore self-deprecating, “I have work soon and I need to drop off my stuff and get into my uniform and be, well, dry. And I won’t have time for that if we go out for coffee.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Keith smiled sheepishly, “How about this, I’ll give you my number and we can take a raincheck on that coffee date? Besides, I don’t think your milk would be happy about being out for that long.”

 

“Oh, I forgot about the groceries to be honest. But that sounds good! I’ll uh, just text you later?” Shiro said, his smile growing again, “Oh wait, I need to get my phone. Ah, here hold the umbrella?”

 

Keith carefully took the umbrella and waited patiently as Shiro fished out his phone from his opposite pants pocket. Keith’s smile grew as he watched Shiro twist awkwardly before reaching over to help, ending up with both Shiro’s phone and umbrella. Shiro shifted the bag of groceries over to his prosthetic arm and took his phone back. Shiro coughed awkwardly and opened his phone, “Alright, sorry about that.”

 

“It’s fine.”

 

“Anyways, I’m ready, what’s your number?” Shiro cleared his throat and looked at Keith expectant.

 

Keith finished telling him the number when the bus finally arrived. Keith pulled on his backpack and grabbed his violin case and gave Shiro one last smile before he got on the bus, “Make sure to text me!”

 

“I will!” Shiro called back as the bus took off. Just then he realized a problem, “Wait, he stole my umbrella!”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Anyways, come yell at me @mikiri on tumblr. There's three chapters of this, the next one will be delayed a bit because the arts not done (and well. next section is the biggest and I'm not done with it either (how do you write romance?????)) But yes, Links will go up when things are done!
> 
> But I hope you liked it! 
> 
> (If anyone was wondering, yes the title is totally reference to the fact the first song in this fic is Coldplay's Paradise)


End file.
